Buddha's Belly, v4

Hi, my name is Ben Ramsey, and I spend a lot of my time climbing rocks and thinking about climbing rocks. I do some other things too. I work in software. I cook. I play video games and board games. There's plenty of things that I do, but the goal of this blog is not to dwell on those things, but instead think about why I do them, and how they bring me happiness and enrichment.

The title of this blog references a specific boulder problem at the Lilly Boulders in the Obed National Forest. I climbed this rock once, while I was out alone in the woods. It was an extremely interesting and satisfying experience, mostly because of preconceptions I had about this rock and how they differed from the actual process of climbing to the top. In terms of bouldering, it's far from a classic "proud" line, which are usually tall, intimidating, and have long stylish moves. This boulder is short (the top of it isn't even at head height for me), the moves are a little thrutchy, and it doesn't even have a big number attached to it. Because of these aspects of the boulder, I had more or less written this climb off. There was a time before I had ever climbed it, where I would even bring it up as a particularly nonsensical, bad climb. Nonetheless, I had tried some other stuff around it, and wasn't having much luck, so I decided to give it a go.

I worked it for a bit. It gave me some trouble. Then I was able to work out a sequence to get me to the top. Upon getting to the top of the boulder, I took a seat, and a wave of satisfaction and emotion washed over me. The climb had been intensely fun and rewarding. Sitting on the top I looked around, relaxed, and just took in the scene. It continues to be one of my favorite moments ever in climbing, years after the fact. But if this climb didn't provide me any prestige or clout and the movement itself wasn't the most special (though it is pretty cool), why does it stick out in my mind so much? I have a few ideas.

Expectations

One of the obvious ones is my expectations of the climb, versus the reality of the climb. Expectations are something that everyone struggles with. In this particular instance, I had especially low expectations for this climb. It seemed dumb, and provided no external motivations. In reality, even though the movement doesn't visually appear interesting, there's a myriad of ways the boulder is special. When my expectations of a lame climb were met with the reality of the situation, I was pleasantly surprised. It was a joyful experience, especially because I expected it to be a bad experience. Now, I don't think it wise, to go about my life expecting the worse of everything with the secret hope that it'll somehow turn out for the best.  Expectations tend to fold on themselves this way. Just because you've tried to convince yourself that you've set expectations correctly low, doesn't mean a part of you isn't actually expecting them to turn out better. In fact in this case you've setup expectations about expectations and so on and so on. 

The traditional teachings of Buddhism, as I understand them, is that the goal is to let go of all expectations. Now, this is far from an easy task. It's an idea I've worked with for a few years now, but I really don't feel close to success. I'm not discouraged but this, though. In fact, I strive to see this as one of many opportunities for self improvement. A way I've approached this, is to do my best to be completely honest with myself about my expectations. I find it's helpful to voice them to my climbing partner as they arise. This makes them appear more what they are: simple notions as to how the day/month/year might play out. This way you can better set them aside and let yourself be surprised by life, instead of worrying about whether things are meeting you expectations.

Physical

I always enjoyed rock climbing, from the first time I did it, but this climb brought into focus some of the physical components that I find so compelling. The climb involves slapping a large rounded sloper, the hold which the boulder is named for. To me, slapping the sloper simply felt good. The specific sensations relayed from my hand to my brain triggered dopamine or something like that. I can't say for sure why, but I can guess at some reasons that might be at play. One is that there was a sense of complete certainty, that even though I may peel off, the boulder itself was going to stay exactly so, long after I'm dead and gone. I still get positive feedback doing gym climbs that I know won't be up for more than a week, but I think on some level my body understands when it's working with something completely solid and resolute. It's like an extension of the feeling of going from walking on sand to walking on solid ground. I also feel such an intimate connection with nature when rock climbing, and for me, especially when I make tough moves on slopey holds. There's something about it that feels primal. Maybe the aspect of slapping and thrutching brings out some aggression in healthy manner.

Stories

Climbing and enjoying something I had derided makes for a good story that I enjoy telling. I think a lot of what we do as humans is make up narratives about what we do in order to convey meaning to ourselves or others. This is a classical tale of ignorance and self discovery. I enjoy sharing it because I feel it may help someone else on their journey towards self improvement. The story itself is pretty trivial and trite, but many things worth learning appear this way. Not every lesson has to be a brand new way to view life. Sometimes it's important to revisit things you already know and take stock of where you are.

I haven't actually been back to try this boulder since I first did it a few years ago, but I know when I get back to it I'll continue to look for things that it might teach me.